Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 5
Thenhesawhimselfsittingattheoldpiano,strikingchordssoftlyfromitsspeckledkeysandsinging,amidthetalkwhichhadrisenagainintheroom,toherwholeanedbesidethemantelpieceadaintysongoftheElizabethans,asadandsweetlothtodepart,thevictorychantofAgincourt,thehappyairofGreensleeves.Whilehesangandshelistened,orfeignedtolisten,hisheartwasatrestbutwhenthequaintoldsongshadendedandheheardagainthevoicesintheroomherememberedhisownsarcasm:thehousewhereyoungmenarecalledbytheirchristiannamesalittletoosoon.
Atcertaininstantshereyesseemedabouttotrusthimbuthehadwaitedinvain.Shepassednowdancinglightlyacrosshismemoryasshehadbeenthatnightatthecarnivalball,herwhitedressalittlelifted,awhitespraynoddinginherhair.Shedancedlightlyintheround.Shewasdancingtowardshimand,asshecame,hereyeswerealittleavertedandafaintglowwasonhercheek.Atthepauseinthechainofhandsherhandhadlaininhisaninstant,asoftmerchandise.
—Youareagreatstrangernow.
—Yes.Iwasborntobeamonk.
—Iamafraidyouareaheretic.
—Areyoumuchafraid?
Foranswershehaddancedawayfromhimalongthechainofhands,dancinglightlyanddiscreetly,givingherselftonone.Thewhitespraynoddedtoherdancingandwhenshewasinshadowtheglowwasdeeperonhercheek.